” Lucy and Sebastian returned to the mausoleum. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St.
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